


Swan Song

by StarSpangledBucky



Series: BeckWatney [1]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Beck Trying To Make Light Of A Horrible Situation, Blood, Both Of Them Are Stranded On Mars, Character Death, Chris Beck Feels, Confessions, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Feels, Fever, First Kiss, Log Entries, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark Watney Feels, Sick Beck, Sorry!, Tears, beckwatney, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:52:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/StarSpangledBucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There never is a right time to tell someone you’re in love with them. Yet when you’re so close to seeing Death. Why would you not tell them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swan Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> Haven't seen the movie, just started reading the book and I'm not that far in. I suppose I've fed off reading other people's BeckWatney fics to try and get a feel or understanding of it. I wrote it for my friend anyway because we were discussing BeckWatney and got onto the topic of fics and something just hit me, so I had to write this before I lost it forever. So, really it's all for her because she's super awesome, so as long as she likes it I'm happy.
> 
> Even though I know she'll be screaming bloody murder when she reads this.

_"I only pretend to hate your jokes you know. I do like your jokes," Beck commented._

_"You're a liar," Watney snorted._

_"And I like that you hate disco, I don't really like it either," he continued._

_"Bossy Beck is now Delirious Beck," Mark mused._

_"Shut up, you asshole, I'm talking," Beck huffed._

_"Angry Beck," Watney chided._

_"Mark, stop," the younger man complained, drawing out the 'k' in his name._

_Watney was met with silence for a while, until he heard a small, tired laugh from Beck, craning his head in his direction. Beck was resting against a wall in the Hab, his hand still grazing over his injury now and again. His skin was pale, slicked with sweat, because somehow he'd gotten a fever over the long length of time they'd been stranded on Mars. Watney could have strangled him when they'd been on Sol six and the dust storm hit. Because he didn't expect to have Beck reaching out for him and not letting go while the remaining crew fled for their lives._

_They were both stranded, rationing the food, the water, hell Watney even got a deeper medical lesson from Beck about stitching up larger wounds. Beck found himself sleeping most of the time while Watney did all the backbreaking labour. He understood, he really did, Beck looked like shit, there was no other way of putting it. Not to mention he was a little on the loopy side, a fever was a hell of a thing._

_"What's funny?" he asked._

_"You," Beck scoffed._

_"Me?" he replied._

_"You, when you-me-" Beck faltered. "Hey handsome," he mocked, making his voice deep as he pulled a face._

_Maybe Beck wasn't so bad when he was in a delirious state, considering he wasn’t being bossy like usual._

_"You're taking the piss aren't you Beck? You're fucking with me?" Watney accused._

_Beck snickered weakly, eyes falling closed for a moment as he breathed in sharply from a jolt of pain._

_"I wouldn't say-well-yeah, alright I am. I am fucking with you," he murmured._

_"Thought so," Watney retorted._

_Silence loomed over them again, save for Beck's slightly abnormal breathing, which he had said was 'no cause for concern'. Watney couldn't deny the diagnosis of a doctor now could he? Beck groaned and shifted into a more comfortable position, thinking to himself that if he could just sleep against that wall for the remainder of his time he would. He was fifty-fifty on whether himself and Mr 'Fear My Botany Powers' Watney were going to make it off Mars alive._

_His head hammered constantly and his body ached, but he'd practically saved his crew mate from terrible injury by using himself as a human shield, getting the full brunt of the antenna that had snapped off. Now he was the one sitting huddled in the Hab, constantly keeping watch on the wound on his side should the stitches decide to pop out. He couldn't even place his finger on the fever that showed up only three days ago, but it hurt none the less, hurt more than the gash on his side if he were honest._

_"Ugh, that's enough thinking for today," Watney grunted, making his way over to Beck._

_He dropped down beside his friend, leaning his head back against the Hab, eyes falling closed. Beck shifted beside him, impossibly closer, until his head was resting against Watney's shoulder. Obviously he was extremely sick, a little out of it, it wasn't like Beck to be like this, or maybe he was simply good at hiding it._

_"Can I tell you something?" he spoke, voice a little thick and shaky._

_Watney nodded, still keeping his eyes closed as he listened to Beck's raspy intakes of air. It didn't sound right at all, maybe he was parched, maybe he needed something more medical wise. But something didn't sit right._

_"I know that-" he paused, swallowing thickly. "I know this is a bad time, it's a shit time actually. I don't even know when a good time to say this even is. But, is there ever a good time to tell someone you're in love with them?" he questioned._

_"What?" Watney breathed, eyes snapping open like he'd just heard a noise that wasn't supposed to be around._

_"Don't freak out-wait-" Beck sighed. "Why am I even saying that. I'm talking shit. But do you ever wake up some days and think you're not going to make it to the next? That you're going to die before you tell someone something really important? And I know it sounds sort of selfish, but it's better to tell someone rather than leaving it so that they'll never find out," he explained._

_"Chris..." the older man whispered, tilting his head to fix his gaze better on Beck._

_"I'm in love with you, Mark," Beck uttered, gritting his teeth as another dose of pain surged up his side. "It's. Always. Been. You." he ground out, the words sounding punched out as he guided himself through the pain._

_"Beck, you're not making any sense, I'll try find you something for that pain," Watney muttered._

_"No I'm serious Watney!" Beck snapped, suddenly, his body sitting upright again, chest heaving as he placed his hand over his side. "I'm not fucking around this time! I love you!" he yelled._

_"Fuck," Watney said, turning himself to face Beck better._

_His clothes were stained with dirt from tending to the crops earlier, but they were both like that. Beck helped out as much as he could before the fever kicked in. He lent against the wall, staring at Chris Beck in shock because...well, he'd just blurted out that he was in love with him. And now Beck was looking at him and he looked tired as fuck, with dark circles under his eyes and he was pale, too fucking pale. Even when Mark lifted his hand to plant it against Beck's forehead he was burning like a furnace. All Beck could do was close his eyes and hope for something, or wait for nothing and realise what a waste of fucking time it was._

_"Nobody is dying here, okay?" Watney wavered, scrubbing a hand down his face._

_He took Beck's chin between his thumb and index finger, waiting until his friend, the man in love with him, opened his eyes to stare back at him._

_"But in case one of us does, most likely me, I-" Beck stopped, his words masked suddenly by a pressure on his mouth._

_Watney was kissing him, right there, smack bang in the middle of Mars in a fucking Hab. Fuck Mars. Fucking NASA. Fucking everything. But was Beck complaining? Not in a million years. It was brief, sudden, yet full of enough emotion to bring Beck's panic down to a lower level. Even when he parted from Beck, he wanted to ask for more, but the words were caught up in his throat. The only noticeable thing was a damn stray tear rolling down his cheek. It was a good thing it was on his left cheek because it remained incognito to Watney._

_"Nobody is dying here," he repeated, before pushing himself off the ground. "I'll find you something for that pain," he added._

_Beck was hoping for a response to what he’d said, yet a kiss would do. It'd do for now, it'd do until they got the hell off Mars. All he had to do was survive first._

* * *

Watney was a genius, a  _god damn_  genius. They'd managed to make contact not too long ago, and a rescue mission was being organised. They'd had problems along the way, yet they fixed them as much as they could. Together. Beck was  _still_  under the weather, but couldn't help the wide smile on his face when Watney told him they were getting rescued. Of course, they kissed in celebration.  _Who the hell wouldn't?_  Watney even cheered like he was at a sports game, making Beck laugh. He hadn't seen anyone so happy before. It had been one of the reasons that he loved him. Beck just wanted to hurry up and get home, take Watney with him, they could have _something._

_"We're getting out of here Beck!"_

Beck was resting against his favourite side of the Hab, listening to Watney humming away while he worked. He was fairly certain he was humming ABBA and he was going to jab him so much about that when they got off Mars. He'd lost track of how many Sols it had been, five hundred and something, far  _too_ long, but Beck was surprised they were  _both_  still alive. At least, Beck knew Mark would. He sat for hours, checking himself over, again and again with what little they had medically. And he only had one clear diagnosis for what was happening to him.

_He was dying._

The fever was still lingering, yet it wasn't as prominent as it had been. He still looked like a ghost everyday, not to mention he was exhausted. The pain in his side from his wound wasn't getting any better which is when Beck realised  _that_  is what was killing him. It was infected, and he didn't have the guts to tell Watney because he knew that if Watney found out he was dying he wouldn't wait for rescue. He'd grab the morphine they had left and give himself a lethal dose. Beck told himself he was a  _fucking_  coward for keeping it secret. If he held on until they were rescued, then let it be classed as a  _fucking_  miracle.

"Beck? You alright in there?" Watney asked.

 _No_  Beck thought.

"Yeah I'm fine," he lied.

He found himself on the ground again, leaning against the wall, biting back a whimper through clenched teeth. Beck lifted the hem of his shirt and winced, blood oozing from the gash in his side. It wasn't any good, the stitches, he needed further medical attention and he wasn't going to get it there. He dropped his shirt down and breathed out shakily, feeling sweat run down his face.  _Not now, not now_  he thought. Beck's eyes glazed over as he drew in another breath, tears leaking out the corner of his eyes. He couldn't let Watney not know, he had to tell him. Nothing felt right and Beck felt like he was going to throw up, but his heart was pounding, his chest ached, he couldn't...he just  _couldn't._

"Watney!" he called.

Beck turned his head back so he was looking straight ahead, tilting it up slightly to stare at absolutely nothing. He let his eyes fall closed, his hand going limp at his side with one last breath of air passing by his lips. Then he was still, cheeks stained with tears, lips parted but unmoving, his chest no longer rising and falling even if it rose and fell abnormally before.

"I guess we have Bossy Beck back, seeing as you're calling on me like I'm your personal sla-," Watney paused, upon seeing Beck against the wall.

He chuckled, before stepping out of the space where he'd been checking over their leftover supply of crops.

"Sleeping again," he spoke, crouching down in front of Beck. "I need to get you on a bunk or somewhere more comfortable, because against the wall can't be comfortable anymore," he added.

Yet when he reached out to hoist Beck up, he stopped in his tracks, the smell of blood hitting his nostrils. Watney looked down and saw the growing blood stain on Beck's shirt, his eyes widening. He lifted the shirt up and saw the weeping wound, a breathy gasp passing his lips.

"Beck?" he whispered, putting his attention on the younger man's face now. "Beck, hey," he continued, cupping Beck's face in his hands. "Beck," he hissed, shaking him gently.

His fingers trailed down to Beck's neck and to his pulse point, feeling nothing, not even a faint beat. He held his hand up to Beck's mouth and didn't feel a cool draft against his skin, there was just... _nothing._  Watney's hands trembled as he took Beck's face in his hands again, looking over him with frantic eyes.

"Hey handsome, come on, open those eyes, come on," he murmured.

Beck only looked like he was sleeping, but he was paler than before, nor was he moving.

"No, no, no, Beck come on. Wake up," he pleaded.

 _Silence,_  Watney hated it.

"Chris!" he shouted, tangling his fingers into Beck's hair, his voice bouncing off a majority of the surfaces in the Hab.

He choked out a pained noise, dropping his forehead against Beck's, screwing his eyes shut tightly.

"I'm dreaming, I'm  _fucking_  dreaming, I'm just caught up in a dream," he chanted.

When he opened his eyes he was met with the same view in front of him, Chris Beck, the man who had the guts to tell him he loved him...was gone.

"No, come on...Beck, this isn't supposed to happen. You needed to hang on for a few more days. You needed to-" he stopped.

Realisation hit Watney like a heavy weight. Beck  _loved_  him. And  _he_  hadn't said it back to him.

Tears fell down Watney's cheeks like a switch had been flicked, flooding his eyes until he couldn't even see through them. He sobbed loudly, unable to control the emotion, the agony that burst out of him. Watney dropped his right arm to Beck's shoulder and pulled him into his arms, his left hand resting in Beck's hair.

"I'm sorry...I'm  _so_  sorry..." he wavered, burying his face into the soft tufts of hair. "Why didn't you tell me?" he choked out.

Watney tilted Beck's head up, smoothing the young doctor's hair back as he stared at him. He swallowed thickly, biting down on his trembling lip and leaning closer. Beck's lips were cold against his and the sensation of not getting kissed in return sent more burning tears sliding out of his closed eyes. He kissed him like it meant everything in the world. His shoulders shook violently as he pulled away for air, pressing a kiss to Beck's forehead.

"I love you too..." he whispered.

He kept Beck wrapped in his arms until he couldn't cry anymore, until his eyes became sore, until his throat became hoarse from not refraining to keep the himself quiet and until the ache in his chest dulled to a numb feeling. He'd said nobody was going to die there, not on his watch.

_Beck was gone, and Watney could do nothing about it._

* * *

He watched his log entry, over and  _over_  again, no matter how much it hurt. Beck had obviously made it while Watney was working on the crops, because he could hear himself in the background. The same part of the log only made Watney feel ten times worse that he was so oblivious to what was happening. Part of him blamed himself for Beck's death.

_"...it's infected, and it's been progressing overtime since we've been here. Right now, it's getting worse, it's progressing quicker. The fever, I don't know what it's about, I'm pretty sure it's part of what's killing me too. I could have minutes, hours, days. But I know that I'm not going to make it to the rescue. There's just not enough, there's not enough to keep me alive,"_

Watney saw the hurt in Beck's eyes, he even saw the tears teeter on the edge of his eyes until they fell. But Beck was a silent cryer, and it must have been why he'd never heard him crying or making the log. He would have been at Beck's side in a heartbeat if he'd heard him breaking his heart.

_"Mark, for what's it's worth, I'm glad I told you how I felt, instead of not telling you. Because if I did, then this log would hurt worse than it already does..."_

His hand had come up to the screen then as Beck sat in a haunting silence only for a moment.

_"I love you. And if I don't make it by the time our crew gets here, then just know I died loving the smartest, funniest, craziest botanist I've ever known. Let Mars fear your botany powers. Fuck Mars,"_

Watney had to laugh at that, even if it was a wet laugh as he sat watching it teary eyed once again. But Beck had smiled, a smile Watney was going to miss  _so_  much.

_"And you don't need to tell me you love me back,"_

There was a long pause then, as Beck looked directly at Watney. It felt all too real and personal.

_"I know..."_

* * *

Mark found ways to keep Beck's body  _preserved_  in a way, so that he could have him taken home. There was no way in  _fucking_  hell he was burying him on Mars and leaving him there. They'd have a proper funeral and send Beck off in a way that Watney would keep stowed in his memories forever. It still killed him inside to not hear Beck's voice, or see his smile, or feel his touch. Any of Beck's shirts that he'd had put in the Hab were either worn by Watney or he held onto them to sleep at night. There was one point where Watney felt himself drop into a depressive state, filled with an emptiness that only Beck could have fixed. Then there were days where he knew he had to carry on and make it through until he was rescued.

_He was doing it for Chris._

The communication system had been on and off for the past few Sols. But Watney got it up and running again, there was something he had to do. It was important for the rescue mission after all, there would have to be a few changes. So when he saw Commander Lewis and the rest of his team, Martinez, Johanssen, Vogel, there was a sense of relief rushing through him.

_"Watney, everything alright on your end?"_

Watney's dark circles under his eyes couldn't mask the redness in the whites of his eyes. He'd been grieving not too long ago, for what felt like the hundredth time.

_"Where's Beck?"_

It still stung to hear his name, or to even think of him. Nothing felt  _right_ anymore.

_"I know this is a bad time, it's a shit time actually. I don't even know what a good time to say this even is. But, is there ever a good time to tell someone you're in love with them?"_

The tears weren't holding back anymore.

_"Watney?"_

He was surviving for Beck.

_"I need to report the death of Dr Chris Beck...Sol five four six,"_

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at: [x-crossbones-x](http://x-crossbones-x.tumblr.com/)


End file.
